


The War Inside

by ArraFrost



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Character Death, Domestic Avengers, F/M, M/M, Superfamily, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArraFrost/pseuds/ArraFrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No powers, war fic. "Only yesterday had Steve's lips pressed against his before he pulled their son into a hug and kissed Peter's forehead. In reality, that had been seven months ago. Seven long months since the day Tony walked out that door next to his Captain with a grin on his lips."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The War Inside

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in celebration for my 50th fanfiction for the Avengers fandom on tumblr. Thanks for reading everyone! I love you all! <3

Tony felt his body tremble as the voice spoke to him on the other end of the phone. He had rushed upstairs because JARVIS was temporarily offline while he updated his mainframe so only the basic electricity was working. Luckily the basement door was open so he could hear the faint ringing of the phone from the living room and Stark bolted up the stairs, grabbed the phone of the receiver and pressed it to his ear. This was not how he was expecting to start his day. Tears streaming involuntarily down his face as the news was relayed to him. The noise attracted his six year old son, Peter, from the living room where he had been playing quietly. The young boy tugged on his sweat pants, staring up at his father with confusion. Tony was sobbing. No sounds were coming out of his mouth but he was shaking from the tears.

Only yesterday had Steve's lips pressed against his before he pulled their son into a hug and kissed Peter's forehead. In reality, that had been seven months ago. Seven long months since the day Tony walked out that door next to his Captain with a grin on his lips.

“Steve...”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Tony, let go of my arm.” Steve's smile spread wide across his face as he attempted to pull his arm from his husband's grasp. Tony shook his head, clinging tighter.

“Not a chance, Captain. You're not going anywhere. We still have one more round of fondue.”

“Tony, not in front of Peter!” The young boy was sitting at the other end of their front porch playing with an electronic puppy, a toy that Tony had given him to fiddle with. He was surprisingly talented with technology for a six year old. That wasn't entirely surprising to the couple, considering Tony made it a point to teach Peter everything he could about technology so he wouldn't grow up to be like his other father who was helpless when it came to properly booting up a computer.

“He doesn't know what fondue means.” Tony purred against his ear and Steve had to suppress a groan at the promises behind it.

“No, Tony, we can't. Our flight leaves at o-eight hundred.”

The business man rolled his eyes at the use of military terminology. As much as he was all for his husband making his way into the military and climbing up that ladder... he didn't enjoy it being rammed down his throat. Unless it was in a kinky way because doing naughty things to Steve while he was still clad in his military garbs was an entirely too hot idea for Tony's brain to handle this early in the morning.

“Hey pal, come over here and give your Pop a hug.” Steve had wormed his way out of Tony's grasp and turned to call their son, ignoring the pout on his husband's lips.

Peter didn't look up right away, he held onto his screwdriver with determination, making a few more adjustments before placing the toy and his tools on the porch and walking over to his fathers. He kept his eyes low the entire time, his lip quivering as he struggled not to frown.

“Hey...” Steve whispered, kneeling down and lifting his son's cheek up with his forefinger. There were tears at the back of the six year old's eyes, just waiting to find their way out into the world but Steve's soft voice hushed them away.

The frown deepened on his child's face. “I don't want you to go...”

“I know, but I won't be gone long.” The Captain pulled his son into a hug, lifting him up in the process. Peter wrapped his small arms around his father's neck, squeezing hard as he sniffed back his tears. Steve's eyes locked on his husband's, which had lost so much of their playfulness since their son's saddened display, as he continued to speak to their son. “I'll be home before you know it.”

A half smile tugged at the corner of Tony's lip, his eyes softening but watering at the same time and he took a breath to regain his composure.

“Hey Captain! Ready to go?” The energetic voice of their neighbour called from the lawn and the three on the porch turned to see him saluting.

“You bet, Barton.” Steve saluted back to his team's medic when he shifted Peter to hold him up against his side with only one hand. Steve turned back to his husband, who was standing beside him, a frown threatening the devious Stark smirk. A soft smile graced his lips as he handed their child over to his Daddy, Tony took the child and blinked back a tear.

“You take care of Daddy, Peter. Tell him to go to bed and wake him up in the morning even if he says he doesn't have work that day.”

Peter smiled and nodded. “Don't worry, I'll take good care of Daddy. Just like you.” He paused before he stared at his father with a sad smile. “I'll write you every day... I promise.”

“I'll read every one. And write back whenever I can.” Steve leaned forward placing a tender kiss on Peter's cheek.

Locking his eyes on Tony as he pulled away, Steve could hear all the unspoken words between them. The ones that neither could ever say aloud because this is what Steve felt he had to do... and Tony could never ask him to give it all up, despite how much it lingered in his mind.

There was a brief kiss on the lips filled with the emotion they wouldn't show in front of their son, the tears that both wanted to spill and the need to curl up in each others arms; Tony's fears that this would be the last chance he'd get to touch Steve's lips, to feel his presence beside him, and Steve's fear that this is the last time this family will be his, that everything will change while he's away and they'll find a new life without him.

And then Steve was walking down the steps with a smile, greeting Barton with a casual fist bump as they carried their gear on their shoulders and walked off down the street. Luckily they only had a few blocks to walk and it was better to say goodbye at their own homes.

Natasha, Barton's fiancée, waved from her own porch, blowing Clint a kiss as they walked away. Peter waved from his father's arms and Tony watched with pursed lips as he struggled to remember that Steve was coming home, that he wasn't leaving him forever.

The spell was broken when they disappeared from the street. Tony lowered his son to the ground and Peter found himself in a hurry to become distracted once again with the puppy he'd been fixing and altering the way Tony had taught him. Instead of returning to the quiet seclusion of his home, Tony settled himself on his steps, staring off down the driveway in hopes that Steve would come back, having forgot something or changing his mind.

“Always hard to watch them go...”

Natasha's voice above him brought Tony out of his fantasy and he looked up to see a mug of coffee being held out as an offering. The billionaire took it gratefully and shifted over to make room for Natasha to sit down next to him. It wasn't the first time they'd spent the morning together after their loved ones had gone off to serve their calling.

“I hate waking up on these mornings. I think maybe if I don't get up, he won't leave. But the stubborn prick hauls me out of bed with this.” She raises the coffee in her hands for emphasis and Tony dares to take a drink, savoring the delicious blend of coffee and alcohol.

“What's in it?” He asks, tasting almonds amongst the flavors.

“Vodka, Kahlua, Amaretto, coffee, whipped cream and sugar.” The redhead lists off, taking another generous sip. “My favorite...”

Tony smirks. Leave it to Clint Barton to be the subtle sentimentalist. Of course the fact that he would use that sentimentality to manipulate his fiancée was of no surprise. “Steve wouldn't know how to work the coffee maker long enough to make my favorite blend.” Strangely enough, Tony didn't even know what his favorite blend was, mainly because he only drank the coffee given to him and never bothered to read a label.

“Steve probably wouldn't know how to work the alarm clock to wake you up on time.”

Tony laughed at the truth of her comment. As much as he loved his husband dearly, the poor thing was completely technologically inept. Which was a surprise to most considering he'd married a genius engineer who was also the CEO of Stark Industries. The leading technology company that specialized in developing and manufacturing advanced weapons and defense technology. That was one of the reasons they were so lucky to have a specially invented A.I., of Tony's creation, running the house JARVIS was able to operate all the technology that Steve was simply incapable of handling.

JARVIS had been originally installed in his old house, a much more extravagant house by the shore that suited Tony's tastes perfectly and he would have been content to live in that house forever, altering it when necessary. Except for the fact that Tony met good old fashioned Steve Rogers that was raised with family values in the more desperate area of Boston. It wasn't a stretch to say that Tony's wealth and privilege had intimated Steve, who grew up mostly looking after himself after his mother died. Money had been a particular issue when it came to dating Steve Rogers. Tony was accused of spending too much money on him or throwing his money away, and he especially disliked it when Tony would pay the bills before they'd even gotten to the table. Tony was sly like that.

During that late night, when the two were laying in Tony's bed and the words free of obligation or even suggestion, as though it were a simple observation that could be ignored if needed. Of course, “we should move in together” slipping from Steve's mouth was subsequently not ignored, because it was exactly what Tony wanted as well. After much debate, Tony decided that maybe he shouldn't try to argue and seduce Steve with the idea of moving into his Malibu home. He would find them a new place more accommodating to Steve's preferences, but that didn't mean Tony was going to slum it in a shitty apartment like the one Steve had been dwelling in.

The shock of seeing the house and being told it was under both their names in the lease was enough for Steve to take one of his heavy fists to Tony's shoulders, but the joy on his face was the main prize. Their house wasn't small but it was certainly more modest than most would expect from the former playboy. It was a wide, two story home with a large basement that Tony had renovated into his lab, the architecture was unique but not enough to stand out in their neighbourhood. While the inside wasn't overly lavish, it was completely abiding to Tony's high tech needs. He had installed the best technology available and JARVIS ran the house as he rightfully should. Although there were expenses Steve hadn't been entirely pleased about, he hadn't exactly complained about the hot tub or their indoor pool in the back of the house that was only a door away from their own gym.

“How's Peter taking it?” Natasha asked, nodding to the small child as he unscrewed a panel to fiddle with the wires.

“Surprisingly well, apparently he takes his job of looking after me while Steve is gone rather seriously. I expect he'll be checking up on me, asking JARVIS to make me coffee so he can bring it down to me like Steve usually does...”

“The kid really is the perfect mixture of Stark and Rogers, thankfully with significantly less attitude than his Dad.” The smirk on Natasha lips was only half hidden by her coffee mug when she moved to take another sip.

“Oh you'd be surprised, he's starting to get sassy. I suspect sarcasm will be his second language in no time.”

“Just don't let Clint babysit him and he might come out of that household somewhat sane.”

“Here's hoping.” Tony clinked glasses with Natasha as they chuckled to themselves before falling into a comfortable silence, sipping at their drinks while lost in their own thoughts until it was well past eight in the morning.

“Take the day off as well then?” Natasha asked casually. Normally she would be at Stark Industries, having picked Pepper up at his home and driven her to the office. Natasha was employed as Pepper's personal assistant and body guard now that Pepper had taken on more responsibilities at Stark Industries. She had been promoted to Vice-President when Steve and Tony had decided on adopting, that would take the weight off of Tony's pressures at work and if anyone deserved a raise it was Pepper Potts.

“Yeah.” Tony shrugged, he didn't have to be explicit or detailed in his explanation. Natasha understood, she was exactly where he was. “Who's looking after Pepper today?”

“Hogan, she'll be fine.”

Tony nodded. Left in the capable hands of her husband who used to be Tony's chauffeur, she should be all right, especially with Happy's driving skills.

“Come on,” Natasha slapped the back of her hand against Tony's knee after downing the rest of her coffee. “Let's go a few rounds in the gym, see if your old daddy limbs can keep up.”

Tony scoffed at the challenge but the smirk light up his face regardless. Taking out their frustration in a friendly duel was something they'd grown accustomed to whenever their men were gone, and it was good to have a routine to keep your mind off things.

“Hey Pete, come on inside and watch Auntie beat up your Daddy.” Natasha rose from the steps, calling over the boy who was practically her nephew. He beamed up at her, scooping up his belongings into one arm so he could run over and take her hand with his other.

Tony shook his head, traitorous son always enjoyed watching his father get knocked over in the ring, especially when it was his favorite aunt who caused it. One of these days, when Peter was old enough, Tony was going to stick him in a ring with Natasha and see how much he'd enjoy it then.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Captain! I am amazed Tony allowed you out of his sight long enough to return to our ranks.” The booming voice echoed in Steve's ear as he sat on his own bunk.

“Lieutenant Thor Odinson.” Steve smiled at the loyal friend, grabbing the hand that was offered to him, clasping it and allowing himself to be pulled into a tight hug.

“Okay boys, get any closer and a wild, jealous Tony's gonna appear and try to grapple with you.” Clint entered the room from behind the embracing friends and they broke apart, grinning at him, Steve shaking his head at the accusation.

“Good to see you again, soldier.”

“And you as well, Captain.” Thor responded with a firm hand to his shoulder. “How has our fine Doc been? I suspect all you'll be doing is bird watching. Not a single injury this year, what do you say?”

Clint chuckled, “You just don't want me to patch you up so you can flash the ladies your new scars.”

“There is nothing wrong with displaying your battle scars.”

“Unless it's the one on your ass, in a public restaurant.” Was Clint's retort and the three laughed because they all remembered that day and would never let Thor live it down. Not that the large man had a problem with it, he could joke about himself as well as the next person, as long as he understood the references being made.

Steve beamed at the two bantering men that he would undoubtedly trust with his life. He had fond memories serving with these two, as fond as fighting in a war could be. But you formed life long bounds with the people you fought beside and swore to protect. They were his family away from home and he couldn't have been happier to see Thor's face.

“Okay, that should be enough pleasantries. The faster we get going, the sooner I can get my fine ass back to Natasha. You know redheads, fiery tempers them and she always hates it when I'm late.” Clint grinned at his two best friends, who rolled their eyes and laughed with him.

“I imagine Mr. Stark will feel the same.” Thor suggested with a knowing smirk.

“Yeah I'd hate for you to deprive him of his well deserved  _fondue_.”

Steve nearly gaped at Clint, shock flooding his blue eyes.

“Oh come on. You think we wouldn't have heard about your fondue nights? We only live across the lawn! And trust me, Tony tells Natasha  _everything_. Leave it to the women to talk about us behind our backs.”

The chuckle escaped Steve's lips before he could stop it. “Tony hears you talking like that and you'll have a heap of law suits to deal with.”

“Well if I have to put up with hearing about fondue, Tony can be called a woman every now and then.”

“Stark's choice to stay home and build defense systems for our country rather than fighting on the front lines with us makes him no less of a man.” Thor chimed in, as always making sure that everyone was respected equally.

“Yeah but his designer shoe collection does.”

It felt good to carry on their jokes while they still had the chance to be civil and reminiscent of their good times together. Soon they'd be shipping off and they'd have to be on high alert. But for now, they could speak easy and disregard ranks for a few moments.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Miss Pepper Potts for you. She has informed me that she picked up some dry cleaning for you, sir.” JARVIS's voice filled the lab. Tony, however, did not look up from his work. Not that the work he was doing was all that important, he merely did not feel like having guests at the moment and distraction was one of his most reliable coping mechanisms.

“Thank you, JARVIS. Please ask her to leave it upstairs.”

“Sir, she insists that it is urgent she speak to you in person.”

“And it is urgent that I get this work done in peace, so tell her I don't have time for her right now.”

“Tony, I know you can hear me.” Pepper spoke over the intercom, damn disobedient A.I. never listened to him anymore, as though he were looking after his well being or some nonsense like that. “You missed two meetings this morning and now I'm getting calls from the dry cleaners about laundry that hasn't been picked up for weeks. I know it's difficult Tony, but it's only been one month and you need to get out of that basement. Steve's on a twelve month tour. If you sink into depression this soon you'll be lost forever and I rather enjoy being under your employment as much as I might suggest otherwise on a daily basis. So please, come upstairs, we can go to dinner, get drinks, talk.”

Tony sighed, lowering the tools he was working with and running over the ideas in his mind. As much as he knew Pepper was right, that it normally took him a tad longer to slip into the anti-social, 'I'm not going to show up to work because my husband is fighting in a war' depression. Getting out of the house and having dinner with one of the few people that Tony allowed to get close to him would do him a bit of good.

“A compromise,” Tony didn't need to press his own button for the intercom, knowing JARVIS would patch him through instantly, “I'll come up and collect the clothes that you so graciously picked up for me and we'll have dinner this Friday.”

The pause on the other line suggested he was going to get exactly what he wanted. They were close and that meant Pepper knew all of Tony's deepest secrets, it was only fair that Tony had picked up a few of hers along the way even if he was incapable of remembering certain important details.

“All right, but we are going out. You're not going to try to cook some abomination you call food for me here or order something in either.”

“Yes, yes. You can drag my butt out of the house. Satisfied?”

“I suppose.” But he could hear the exasperated smile on her lips.

“Good. Now leave the clothes upstairs and be on your way.”

“Tony, you said-”

“That I would come up and collect them but I did not state that you would in fact be present. I'll see you on Friday.” The smirk was wide on his lips. He wasn't entirely sure if this would work because Pepper hardly fell for his ploys, but right now Tony did not want social interaction and he was hoping Pepper would pick up on that.

“You're a sneak, Tony Stark.” The eye roll could be heard in her condescending voice. “Friday I'll be by to pick you up and you better be ready.”

“Yes ma'am.” His sarcasm slipping through enough for Pepper to laugh her signature irritated yet amused laugh.

“Miss Potts has left the dry cleaning in the hallway on the right table, sir.”

“Thanks, JARVIS. Between you and my son I can't decide who's more of a traitor.”

“I could run statistics, if you would like, sir.”

“Oh you sassy bitch. Watch it or I'll program you not to back talk.”

“Of course, sir.” But the A.I.'s tone was clearly unaffected by Tony's empty threat that he had made before on countless occasions.

Taking to the stairs, Tony figured he may as well follow through with at least one promise and found himself staring blankly at one of Steve's suits. The one Tony had bought him for their fifth anniversary. The one they had sent to the dry cleaners only three days prior to the day Steve had left him standing on their front porch.

With a loaded sigh, he walked over to the zipped bag of clothes. There were other designer suits underneath, all Tony's, and that irritated him a little. Knowing that there had been a chance that Tony could have simply gone through with a chore as though it were an everyday occurrence. Just put the clothes in the closet and forget about them. No, Steve's clothing had to be right on the top for Tony to see. If he didn't know better, he would have accused Pepper of leaving it there on purpose, but she would never.

Draping the clothing over his arm, he carried them up the stairs to their bedroom where he would deposit them in their shared closet. A walk-in closet, of course, because Tony could not live with anything smaller. It was for work though, not for pleasure, in Tony's line of work he needed such designer labels... along with the shoes, and the ties. They were all clearly for business purposes only.

Leaving them in the bags, Tony stepped into the closet. Hanging his three suits on his side of the closet before turning and moving aside some of Steve's hanging clothes to place his beautifully tailored suit where it belonged.

His fingers lingered on the material of one of the flannel shirts. Blue, Steve's favorite color was blue. It felt soft in his hand, as he ran his fingers down the length of the sleeve, pulling it close to him as though there would be a hand to clasp when he got to the end of it. It wasn't conscious what Tony did. He hadn't thought about it. He naturally found himself standing considerably closer, wrapped up in the scent of his husband that remained on the shirts. Idly, he moved through each piece of clothing, pulling it close to him, pressing his nose close, inhaling the scent and the memories of being held by each shirt.

Each piece of fabric felt familiar and warm to the touch, and then he got to hoodie in the back, the one Tony would steal on several occasions. The first of which had been before they officially started dating. Steve had come over for a movie one night, an innocent movie with beer and steak and no hidden agendas. They'd fallen asleep on the couch, Tony's head laying non-suggestively on Steve's chest. On his way out, the bright blue eyed man forgot his sweater and Tony took it upon himself to keep it warm for him. Steve didn't regain full possession of that sweater until the day they moved in together.

Tony barely noticed when he slipped the hoodie over his head, didn't feel himself sinking to the floor of the closet, wrapping his arms around himself and the sweater. It felt like Steve was there, sitting behind him and enclosing him in a tight embrace. Telling him that everything was going to be okay. That he was here and he was never going anywhere again. He could feel the breath on his ear as Steve whispered to him,  _“I'm all right, I'm going to live... for you.”_

“Master Peter has returned from school.” JARVIS announced to Tony, who had momentarily lost himself. The world felt distant and strange, as though he had been sleeping for days. Glancing at his watch he could hardly believe it was nearly four already, because that meant he had been sitting silently in the closet, buried in a sweater and an imaginary voice for at least two hours.

Standing up on shaky legs, Tony gently removed the sweater, smoothing it out once it was hanging neatly on the coat hanger and pressing a kiss to the collar before wiping the tears from his eyes and putting on his best father face.

“Daddy! I got an A plus for show and tell today!” Peter's wide grin greeted him when he walked through the living room. He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa with the completed robotic dog in his lap.

“You showed them your new friend that your built? Well done! How does he work now?” Tony flashed a genuinely proud smile, he was always astonished at how clever his son was and how brilliant he was turning out.

“I didn't show them JARVID.”

Tony smirked at the name, reckoning the last letter in the acronym to be 'dog' before raising his eyebrow for questioning. “What did you show your class than Peter?”

Peter ducked his head before reaching into the front pocket of his book bag beside him and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Tony knelt down, stretching his hand out and unfolding the paper to glance over what his class could have possibly found so compelling about a piece of...

“ _Dear Peter, I miss you son. You'll never believe what Uncle Clint has been doing...... Uncle Thor wants to see you and promises to visit real soon....... Are you keeping Daddy safe for Papa? Make sure he doesn't stay downstairs to much and call Auntie Pepper if he does. Uncle Barton also wants you to look after Aunt Tasha. Remember to visit her and give her lots of hugs........ Love Papa.”_

A sad smile gracing his lips as he read the select sentences that jumped out at him. Tony had his own letters piled upstairs, but it was good to hear Steve's Papa voice when he read the letter. He missed that sound around the house.

“I told them all about how Papa is protecting us. How Uncle Clint and Thor are helping and that they're going to come back with all kinds of metals and the war will be over.”

Tony stared into the innocence of his child's eyes, the hope and the lack of worry that his father lived with. There was no fear that Steve wasn't going to come home, only confidence in his Papa. He wished he could have the same blind faith that Peter had.

“Knock, knock.” Not surprising that it was Natasha who was calling from the front door. Tony really had to do something about his A.I. and his incessant need to undermine him. Don't let people into the house unless they live here JARVIS, I want to be alone JARVIS, make me a sandwich JARVIS, and did the damn A.I. follow through on any of those?

“Aunt Tasha!” Peter grinned from ear to ear as he stood to greet the redhead who peeked around the corner of the open door frame of the living room. She was holding a large pot between her oven-mitted hands. “What's that?”

“I knew your Daddy would probably forget to feed you or order in a proper meal so instead of loading you up with greasy foods, I brought some stew.”

“Smells yummy!” The boy sniffed at the pot, eager to get something in his stomach that his father hadn't cooked.

And Natasha was right, Tony had forgotten all about proper meals for the day and the most common solution was to order in a pizza. By the smell of the stew, however, Tony was beginning to think it wasn't so bad having friends and neighbours that regularly barged into his life.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What are you writing over there, Barton?” Steve asked when he returned to the barracks to find Clint was still at his notepad with the end of his pen between his teeth.

Steve understood spending time writing home, he often found himself writing two letters. Separate ones for Tony and Peter. Usually Peter received more letters than Tony because Peter wrote him so many while Tony barely wrote him any. Steve understood, though and didn't take it personally. It was painful for Tony to constantly think of Steve being away, to write to him instead of being in denial and expecting him to walk in that front door at the end of the day. The more Steve wrote Tony their personal letters, written words of love and promises and how Steve missed the beard burn in the mornings, how he missed Tony stealing his lap as a pillow or a chair when they were lounging about the house, the more he was actually hurting his husband.

He wished he could be there, he wished this wasn't his calling and that he could wrap his arms around Tony's waist every morning, bury his face in his shoulder and kiss him senseless against the wall...

“Oh you know... just writing a letter home... something for Natasha. I can't seem to get any of the words right though. You know how I am, and you know how she is...” Clint continued to chew the end of his pen when he trailed off. “Has to be special, something that she can keep with her and know that... know that everything is going to be okay.”

Steve smiled and nodded. He understood. He couldn't count how many reassuring letters he had sent home for Tony in the beginning.

“What's Peter saying after four months? Begging you to come home?” Clint asked, changing the subject as his eyes finally lifted from the paper, having apparently decided to take a break from letter writing.

“Peter's a strong kid... never complains about me being gone. Only talks about what he and Daddy have been building. Moved on from that robotic dog he built to creating a small robotic spider from scratch. Apparently it moves like one and everything.”

“Never understood why Peter likes spiders, the creepy little crawlers... maybe he picked that up from Natasha. She's always had a fondness for arachnids.”

Steve shrugged, not sure himself but Peter did watch a fair deal of Discovery Channel which might have peaked his interest. Not to mention the strange joy Tony got out of making fun of Eight Legged Freaks and instead of being scared, Peter thought the sounds they made were cute and funny.

“He takes his job very seriously though.” Clint rose his eyebrow at Steve's words before the Captain continued. “Looking after his Daddy while I'm away.” That made Clint smirk briefly before his eyes lowered again. “And his Aunt Tasha.”

Clint's eyes lifted once more, catching Steve's gaze. They were soft and there was a 'thank you' written deep within them even if the words weren't spoke aloud. “Now, do you think I should write her a poem? I've never been great with rhymes.”

“Try plain words, you'll make less of a fool out of yourself.” Steve suggested, returning Clint's grin.

“What are you talking about? Natasha loves it when I make a fool out of myself. It'll make her day, quirky old Barton trying to be cute.”

“Captain!” Thor's rushed presence broke their shared laughter and suddenly everything was business and military formal again.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Was Steve's reply as he stood up straight and listening to the report his lieutenant was giving him. Sadly, their conversation would have to be put aside until later and Clint would have to think of that poem without his notepad. They were headed back into the line of fire once more.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Tony!” Steve's pained voice, screaming desperately filled Tony's ears and he flew up from his bed with a breathless gasp. His heart was racing, he was sweating, and he was shaking considerably with terror. His nightmares were the worst. Vividly detailing every possibility of something going wrong, of Steve being taken from him in the blink of an eye with a well aimed bullet.

He blinked up at the ceiling and sobbed heavily, but quietly. He couldn't risk waking Peter up... it was something they had never wanted to do; making Peter feel like Steve wasn't coming home or let him see how much it was tearing his father apart to feel so lonely and so helpless.

Tony absolutely could not take this anymore, it hurt far more than he could have dreamed. To wait for someone, to hope that they returned home in one piece, to picture their death over and over until he shook from exhaustion. All he wanted to Steve laying next to him, holding him, smiling and whispering his name softly into his ear.

Six months of this feeling was an unnecessary burden that he wished he hadn't consented to. He had survived it before... miraculously, but each time Steve went away, the waiting got harder. What if he wasn't going to be so lucky this time? He remembered the first wound Steve received after they'd started dating. It was only a knick, barely visible, but Tony knew every inch of that man's body and when he ran his hands down Steve's arms, he felt the difference.

He still had six more months of this.

Running his hands through his hair, Tony contemplated picking up the phone and calling Natasha. Talk through this with her because she was probably experiencing the same thing. They never delved too greatly into the details during the day, they knew how much it hurt and it wouldn't help to remind each other of that pain. It was easier for them, better for them, to distract each other. Go for runs in the mornings together on the off day Natasha decided to haul Tony's lazy ass out of his bed long before he'd meant to be conscious. Eat together, usually Natasha bringing over extras when Tony forgot and sometimes the three of them would go out to eat. Fighting off their frustration in the gym or swimming laps in the pool out back. From the sidelines, people would confuse Tony and Natasha for being the married couple with Peter as their kid.

Natasha always seemed to handle this better than Tony did, at least from his point of view. Tony was the depressed one, the one who secluded himself to his lab and gave explicit orders (which were subsequently ignored) to allow no one entrance into the house and it was Natasha who came by each week to save him. To pull him out of his self-loathing and who cheered him up with home cooked meals and various different drinks that she could mix together for them. She instigated everything and with a smile that could match Peter's at that. She was there for him, each day that Tony felt he could no longer go on, she'd be there to encourage him to keep going.

But Tony knew he was her support system as much as she was his. He needed a constant reminder that he was human and that he needed to interact socially, and she needed a distraction and a reason to be happy. And mocking Tony, making sure he ate properly and functioned like a semi-normal human being, being with Peter and having him look up at her as though she was the coolest person on earth, that certainly brightened her mood.

Shaking his head, and the tears from his eyes, Tony resolved that tonight was not an appropriate night to wake up his neighbour or to risk waking his son up because Tony was bad at using his 'indoor voice' even if it was three in the morning. He rolled over in his bed, pulling the covers up tightly and sniffled into the pillow hoping he could fall back to sleep even with the horrid images still fresh in his mind.

He expected to be replaying the sounds of gunfire and explosions and screams over in his mind until morning, the footsteps he had not anticipated. Nor did he imagine that his bed would creak as the tiny form of his son crawled into the bed, a small teddy bear with the shades and symbols of the American flag cradled in his arms.

Neither spoke as Peter snuggled up to his father's chest, the bear safely between them. Pressing a kiss to his son's forehead, he tucked the blanket around his son with one hand before stroking his hair and contemplating the possibility of a peaceful sleep now that his faithful protector had come in to watch over him.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Over the gunshots and the explosions, Steve briefly heard a fellow officer call for a medic as he lost his feet from under him and fell to the ground. His entire body felt heavy, burdened, and useless as he lay there on the ground with an uncomfortable warm feeling pooling around his stomach. As the sky above him, littered with warfare, faded in and out of focus, he vaguely recalled the sound of his own anguished scream and a mind numbing pain that shot through him. He couldn't be sure though. He could only try and regain his grip on his gun, he had to keep fighting, he had to get his men through this. If Captain Rogers promised one thing, it was to protect his men and send them home to their loved one.

Yet he wasn't moving. The sky was fuzzier than normal and the noise from the battle, as close as it was, sounded distant.

“I got ya, Cap.” A familiar voice tumbled past his ears and he felt himself behind dragged backwards. The pain shot through his body once more at being moved, but he was in safe hands. Barton's blurry silhouette hovered over him. His medic was here, his best friend would pull him to safely and they would all get out of this okay. Steve could bare the pain long enough, even as he felt his blood rush from his body, soaking his uniform.

“Come on, Rogers. What would Tony say huh? See you lying down on the job.” If Steve could have laughed, he would, even though Clint's tone was nearly free of the humor that was meant to accompany Barton-jokes. “You'll be all right, Steve. I promise.”

Neither had expected the explosion to land so close to them. Steve's entire body trembled from the shock and he felt Clint cover his body with his own, trying to keep him safe from the blast, to keep the Captain from gaining further wounds that he could not afford. The sky turned black, everything was empty, and Steve felt a soft whisper against his ear as Tony breathed out his name.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Steve...”

The phone shook in Tony's hand. Tears streamed down over his cheeks as he tried to comprehend the words being spoke to him. Peter gripped his pants tightly, asking him what was happening.

“Daddy what's going on? Why are you crying?”

Tony gasped through his tears, putting the phone down on the table as he pulled Peter into his arms, holding him tightly, desperately.

Yet as the words fully penetrated Tony's mind, he found himself releasing his son and jogging toward the front door, throwing it open and stepping onto the steps as he had done so many months ago. His eyes looked around frantically before they landed on him. His beautiful soldier, standing at the bottom of the steps with a cellphone pressed to his ear and a relieved smile on his face.

Tony threw him arms around his shoulders, holding him close and unable to breathe from how intoxicating it was to see Steve's smiling face, to feel him against his body, to be engulfed in his scent that wasn't lingering on an article of clothing.

“Papa!” Their son came barreling out the door only a few seconds behind Tony, wrapping his arms around Steve's leg before his father bent down to pick him up with one arm and pull them into a group hug. They held each other as though they would never get this opportunity again, as though it had been a lifetime since they'd been in each others arms and they'd barely avoided the possibility of never seeing Steve's face again... and it had felt exactly so.

“I'm home.” Steve whispered, his voice thick with the threat of tears that he was expertly holding back.

“How?” Tony whispered into his husband's ear. Not entirely caring how he was here, how he was holding him five months before he'd expected to see him again, but it wasn't as though Tony was complaining. In fact he was ecstatic enough to forgive him for calling him on the phone like that, scaring him half to death with the thought of the military calling him to tell him that all his worst fears had come true.

“Bullet nearly hit my stomach. Took a bit to patch it up, told them – half conscious – not to call you and tell you because you'd only worry yourself sick and probably fly a jet out to where I was.”

“Only because that's true.” Tony grinned against his neck, not arguing in the least. He was terrified to think that Steve had been injured but right now he was enjoying the moment and there would time to scold him later.

“I love you, Stark.” Steve kissed Tony's forehead, stroking his hair with one hand.

“I love you, Rogers. Don't ever leave me again.” The billionaire returned, nipping his neck playfully and gripping the back of his shirt with his hand, never wanting to let him go.

Their tender moment was interrupted, however, when Steve ended the embrace and they glanced over to see Natasha coming out of the door of her own home. She smiled down at the embracing family, surprised to see Steve standing there but it was a heart-warming display. Peter's smile wider than his face probably allowed as he clung to his father, Tony's relieved tear that caught at the edge of his eye, and Steve's relieved face to be home.

Handing their son over to his other father, Steve caught her gaze and walked up to his door step to join his fellow officers that had accompanied him today.

“No...” Natasha shook her head as cold realization washed over her. “No. Steve. No. Please...” One of the officers tried to reach out and hold her hand, but she batted away any attempt to get close to her.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Steve pulled out a wrinkled piece of folded notepad paper and he handed it to Natasha. Her trembling hands hesitated before taking it, nimbly unfolding it and nearly ripping it in the process.

Her eyes glistened as she read:  _“I want you to live. I want you to love. I want you to go on and not give up. I want you to try. I want you to know that I'm alright. I want you to fall in love again. I want to see you smile again and again. I want you to live.”_

Natasha cried out, grasping the paper in her hands as she fell to her knees. Steve knelt beside her, holding her close as she pounded her fists against his chest, sobbing as the sickly feeling rushed through her veins. She could hardly breathe, her lungs felt so full and empty and she could only pull away from Steve and grip the letter with her shaking hands as her eyes soaked in the last words of Clint Barton.

_“I want you to live_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I put this at the bottom because I didn't want you all to watch it and spoil the plot for yourselves, but if you hadn't noticed (because maybe you're not a raving country fan like me) this story was inspired by George Canyon's [I Want You To Live](http://youtu.be/HPMelnMdfHU). I apologize for the feels.


End file.
